Heidi McCahan - The Firefighter's Twins

“How would you feel about operating a glue gun?” Shay asked.

Natalie faced him. “A glue gun? For what?”

“If we glue the subflooring to the joists, it keeps the floors from squeaking.”

Trent shot him a look. “You’ve obviously done this before.”

He shrugged. “Maybe a few times.”

“If you’re not careful, Natalie will appoint you project manager,” Trent said.

“No kidding.” Natalie smiled up at Shay. “If you tell me you were an electrician in a former life, I might hug you.”

Promise? Heat crept up his neck. An awkward pause ensued. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for hugging a glue gun instead.”

Trent smothered a laugh with a cough and turned away.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you clever. Show me this glue gun, and we’ll get started.”

“Sweet. Let’s look back here.” He crossed to the hallway and stopped in the opening for the first bedroom. Sheets of plywood leaned against the far wall in a neat stack. A glue gun and several boxes of nails were balanced on top of an overturned bucket.

Natalie came up behind him. “Did you find—”

He held out a hand to keep her from coming any farther. “Watch your step. It looks like whoever started the installation stopped right about here.”

The fragrance of her perfume—sweet and flowery—teased his senses as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a band she’d slid from her wrist. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go. She had the only exit blocked, and the exposed floor joists kept him from moving farther into the room. But he didn’t trust himself to stand there, feeling the sleeve of her plaid shirt brush against his arm, while he figured out how to play it cool and put them both to work.

“Trent, why don’t you and I lay down a few boards first? That will give Natalie a surface to stand or kneel on while she adheres the glue.”

“You got it.” Trent lingered behind Natalie, unable to squeeze past her.

“You don’t have to make a place for me to stand.” She looked around the room. “I can balance on the floor thingies—what are they called again?”

“Joists.” Trent and Shay spoke in unison.

Shay walked carefully across the narrow boards, toward the stack of plywood. “Stay where you are until Trent and I get things set up.”

“But what about the glue?” She reached for the gun. “I thought you said this went down first?”

Shay paused. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

She grinned. “Not usually.”

“Fine. Come over here, and I’ll show you how to get started. Trent, if you’ll help me move this plywood, we’ll slide it right in behind her.”

Natalie proved to be a quick learner. He thought he’d spend a lot of extra time coaching her and waiting for her to maneuver in the small space. But she surprised him by working efficiently. It wasn’t long before they had half the room finished.

“Isn’t there a chalk line or something we’re supposed to draw?” She leaned back on her heels, resting on a fresh sheet of plywood.

Shay exchanged glances with Trent. “How did you know that?”

“I googled installing a subfloor last night.”

“Were you planning to do this yourself?”

Natalie brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “If I had to.”

“I don’t have a chalk line with me.” Shay opened a box of nails, biting back a smile. She was really something. He pretended to fumble around, looking for his hammer—anything to distract him from admiring the way her pink lips quirked to one side as she surveyed their progress.

“That’s one thing I did remember.” Trent stood and rummaged in his toolbox.

Natalie hummed softly while they waited. Shay had forgotten what it was like to have a woman around, singing while she worked. He looked away. Despite his best efforts, memories of married life popped up when he least expected.

“Found it.” Trent held the chalk line in his hand.

“Excellent. If you’ll hold one end, I’ll grab the other and we can snap these lines.” Shay got back to work with a renewed focus. This project mattered. A home for a veteran and his family mattered. He’d help however he could. If it meant working side by side with a certain farmer’s daughter, then he’d have to make sure they never worked alone.

Chapter Four

Natalie massaged her aching back. In her brief history as Magnolia Lane’s owner, she’d glued hundreds of bows on party favors and re-strung dozens of white twinkle lights in the barn, but none of that compared to the fatigue she felt from being hunched over, squirting glue on narrow pieces of wood.

Shay and Trent kept going, though, so she would, too. After she’d finished spreading the glue, she’d taken over snapping the chalk lines so Trent and Shay could nail down the floorboards. She wasn’t a stranger to swinging a hammer, but they definitely worked faster than she did.

Long shadows fell across the wood they’d installed. The reddish-orange glow of late afternoon sunlight reminded her she still had plenty to do today—and it didn’t involve spending quality time next to Shay Campbell. Even though she’d vowed to quit, she’d caught herself staring at him more than once, especially when he tossed his windbreaker aside and revealed yet another snug-fitting T-shirt. Every time he moved another sheet of plywood, her gaze was drawn to his muscles rippling beneath the faded fabric.

She saw Trent look at his watch. “Do you need to go?”

“Yeah, I should. Caroline will want to feed the girls supper pretty soon.”

Natalie palmed her forehead. “I was going to bring you guys something to eat.”

“We’ll be back to help you again.” Trent packed up his tools. “You can feed us some other time.”

“But I offered—”

“I can’t speak for Shay, but I’ll have to take a rain check. Something was already cooking in the Crock-Pot before I left the house. Caroline will not be happy if I’m not there to eat it.” Trent shrugged into the faded plaid button-down he’d discarded earlier.

“I understand.” She sneaked another quick look at Shay. He pressed his lips into a thin line while he cleaned up his work space. He hadn’t declined her offer for a meal, but he wasn’t expressing much interest, either.

She hung back, staying out of the way while they packed up and headed outside to their trucks. The other guys who’d come with them had left already.

“Thank you, Trent.” She gave her friend’s husband a side hug. “Please tell Caroline and the girls how much I appreciate them giving up an afternoon with you.”

Trent grinned, squeezing her shoulder. “No problem. I’ll try to round up some more help, especially an electrician.”

“Yes. I’m desperately seeking an electrician. If he can recommend a great plumber, that would be sweet, too.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Trent climbed into his truck and waved at them through the open window. “See y’all later.”

Shay gave his friend a casual salute. “Have a good night.”

After Trent drove off, Natalie turned and faced Shay. “Thank you, again. Are you sure I can’t feed you? The boys are welcome to come over to The Grille for cheeseburgers, too. Or...”

His pained expression caused her to trail off.

“What? What did I say? You look like I kicked you in the teeth.”

He lowered his tool belt to the ground and jammed his hands in his back pockets.

“I’m not very good at taking the boys out by myself.” His voice strained, he scuffed the toe of his work boot against the ground.

Her heart climbed into her throat. “Oh.”

“Germs, food allergy issues, the stress of handling two little kids in public... I can’t seem to—”